Lost and Gone Forever
by RavenwoodSun
Summary: It had been one year since the renowned Dragonborn, savior of Nirn, loved by all, drowned at the Irkngthand ruin, her end masked by a much simpler death. However, even a year later guilt still gnawed at the thieves that brought her to her end, and they knew that one thing ought to be known: the truth. (spoilers!)
1. Prologue

_It had been one year since the renowned Dragonborn, savior of Nirn, loved by all, drowned at the Irkngthand ruin, her final story masked by a simple, valiant death at the hands of a Falmer. Tamriel's people, and even Tamriel itself, it seemed, mourned for her loss, though still celebrating her years rather than grieving them. However, even a year later guilt still gnawed at the thieves that brought her to her end, and they knew that one thing ought be known: the truth._

 _Sorry if the prologue is super long. I tend to get carried away. Enjoy!_

* * *

Prologue-

Eliana thrust the dark, menacing ebon blade into the neck of the pale, slouching beast, immediately recoiling as she jerked the weapon out of its body, forcing back a gag. It stank of death and feces, and it sickened her to think that she had actually touched its thick, clammy cloud-colored skin. Dark, cloudy eyes stared back at her as the life slowly drained out of the Falmer, a gurgle rolling out of its lungs before saliva spilled out of its jaws, pooling around its dull, drained face. The Imperial coughed as she backed away, her weapon suddenly heavy in her hand.

Karliah placed her gloved hand on her comrade's shoulder, her gleaming violet eyes, obscured by the shadow of her hood, softening. The girl pushed her hood off of her head, revealing a head-full of thick, wavy copper hair that was cropped rather short, just below her ear lobes. Sweat dampened her overgrown bangs, and her forehead was slick with perspiration. Blood trickled from her straight, slender nose.

"Are you alright?" the Dunmer asked, swallowing as she tried to catch the woman's wandering hazel eyes. She had been rather uneasy throughout the entire battle through the ruin, and Karliah worried that she was not fairing well. The young Imperial was not exactly known for being very stable.

Eliana sighed, sinking into a crouch. "I don't know." She rubbed her face with her hands, releasing a shuddering sigh. She refused to cry in front of them. Not now, not after everything that had happened.

Brynjolf stood back, avoiding the scene. He did not utter a word as he carefully looted the remained corpses, pocketing every piece of value he came across. His shoulder ached from a destructive blow from the Dwemer centurion, and he feared it could be serious. The Nord was not the type to go thundering through bandit camps or dragon lairs or ruins like this one, so it was not often that he was injured badly. He was not a warrior, not a brute or a knight, he was one thing and one thing only: a thief. He enjoyed the fact that it was so simple yet daring, sly and exhilarating. He loved to hear that soft click as a lock pick slid into place, the sound of gold hitting gold, to experience that feeling of complete triumph as you slipped out of a home or shop or residence perfectly unnoticed, a job gone smooth as silk.

He found no such triumph in the sound of a blade on blade, the crunch of your weapon slicing into your foe.

He and Eliana were unalike in so many ways, and similar in a rare few, but that very thing was something they both shared a guilt of. The both of them could not help but feel that sense of dread and regret as their enemy's lifeless body hit the ground, killed at their very own hand. They could not help but loathe the scent of blood, the reek of dying flesh or the fumes of burnt hair or garments. They felt the tingle of guilt itching up their spines when they heard their combatant's last words, and they paled and tensed when they were reminded.

They were not killers.

Brynjolf held his breath as he tore a platinum pendant from the scrawny, damp neck of a fallen Falmer, quickly dropping the piece of jewelry into the small leather pouch at his side. He wondered how on Nirn the elven fiend had gotten such a fine piece of wealth, if there had been someone else, someone _human,_ here before. He found it unlikely, but shrugged to himself and settled for the only reasonable answer out there. He smiled faintly. Silver and gems did not belong on the neck of a savage.

A part of him wished, _hoped_ that he could somehow find a way to have a life like that, noble and wealthy and full of lust and desire, but he knew that it was not for him. He was not and would never be a man of riches and power, great things and honor. He had done too many horrible things to be considered a noble, and had too many desires as it is.

Silver and gems did not belong on his neck, either.

He glanced up, away from the Falmer, and saw that Karliah was speaking in hushed tones to their Guildmaster, whose face was in her hands, her feet drumming rhythmically on the firm soil ground. She removed her hands, and her dark eyes were glassy, ripe with fear.

"Yes, yes," Eliana murmured, nodding along with Karliah's worried statements. "I know. I promise."

The Dark Elf stood, placing a hand on the Imperial's shoulder as if to steady her as she did the same. They were both clad in the sleek, form-fitting black Nightingale armor, though Eliana's hood was down as well as her cowl. The girl had always looked rather striking in the dark armor, as if it was made only for her. She moved with an unfamiliar grace while wearing it, her strides ground-covering and accurate, her combat fluid and natural, almost like a dance or march. It was as if she had changed into a whole new person when she became a Nightingale, now intrepid and sure.

However, simply a new set of armor and another god to worship did not fully cast away her true demeanor.

Looks were shared between the two women as they made their way to Brynjolf, gesturing to the drop-off. "We ought to be on our way. I'm certain that Mercer is somewhere down there, and we don't have any time to spare." Karliah stated, and her two companions nodded. They pulled away from the mess of corpses and stray weapons strewn around the cavern, their footsteps nearly synchronized.

Eliana shuddered, pulling up her hood and positioning her cowl over her mouth and nose. She could smell blood, and blood only. Her nose must have been leaking some more from when the Skulker had slammed her with the heel of his disgusting hand. She wrinkled her nose at the thought, trying to match the other two thieves' pace. She took a moment to look at Brynjolf from his back, furrowing her brow and repressing a smile. If she had seen him like this months ago, when she had been merely a petite, nervous amateur thief who could barely pick a lock, she would never have recognized him. Stendarr's mercy, she may have even turned around and strolled in the opposite direction. And though his new demeanor made him seem poisonous, menacing, a _threat,_ it did not fit him.

Karliah, however, was another story.

The Dunmer was sly, dexterous, and even seductive at times. She could sneak like a house cat, rob like a weasel, and in her hands any bow was pure peril. The Nightingale aura fit her like a charm, and of the three she was the most suited to the title. It was as if it was meant to be.

Karliah leaped down, her feet hitting the ground below with a muffled _thump._ She called to them from below, ensuring that it was safe. "There's a gate down here. Get down, all of you." She made sure to keep her voice at a low mutter.

Brynjolf came down next, Eliana following closely behind. The Imperial leaned up against the steep hill, feeling her face drain of color. She did not feel prepared. She was anxious and agitated, and a frigid sweat was already breaking out on the back of her neck. She had been harmed by Mercer before - the last thing she wanted was to finally die that way.

"He's close," Karliah said, her words trembling the slightest. "I'm certain of it. We must prepare ourselves."

"Oh shit." Eliana finally managed, swallowing and taking a moment to catch her breath. Brynjolf and Karliah eyed her for a moment, fear swelling in their chests. Was their Guildmaster even prepared? Did she have the ambition to kill Mercer, finally?

Finally Brynjolf spoke up, his words soft. "Then this is it. We do this for Gallus and for the Guild." Karliah nodded, the faintest smile hinting at the corners of her lips. Eliana was silent, expressionless, her eyes fixed on the door.

Karliah silently shoved the door open, crouched into a sneak. Brynjolf followed her out onto the ledge, but Eliana hesitated. Karliah scolded her with pleading eyes, until finally the young woman followed, her hands shaking vigorously.

"He's here and he hasn't seen us yet. Brynjolf, watch the door." She could not help but watch Eliana as the Imperial stared blankly at the enormous statue below them.

"Aye, lass. Nothing's getting by me."

Eliana released a shuddering breath as she watched the Breton on the statue, his tools tapping away at the magnificent, huge pearly eyes on the statue. One of them was already gone, most likely carried by Mercer. She felt the boiling pit of hatred in her stomach, and closed her eyes. She had to do this. _For Gallus._ She nodded, opening her eyes. _For the Guild._

Karliah glanced at Eliana, who seemed a bit more comfortable than she had just been. "Eliana, climb down that ledge and see if you can-"

"Karliah, when are you going to learn that you can't get a drop on me?"

Suddenly the cavern began to quake, the ledge crumbling and sending Eliana tumbling down below. As her body hit the ground she gasped, choking back a sob when she sensed the explosive pain in her lower back and left hip. Karliah had shrieked, and was standing back, and Mercer was speaking. She could barely understand him, for her entire head was throbbing and blood was rushing as she struggled to stand, reaching for her blade and slicing it out of the sheath. It hissed, and she held it before her, staring at the Breton standing on the huge golden book, his words forceful and dripping hatred. But the Imperial faced him, and listened.

"-shift in the wind. And at that moment, I knew it would end with one of us at the end of a blade."

Eliana did not speak, merely watched as he scurried to the very edge of the book. He was silent for a moment, and Eliana could not help but wonder what in Nocturnal's rack Brynjolf and Karliah were doing. Watching?

"What's Karliah been filling you wretched head with? Tales of thieves with honor? Oaths rife with falsehoods and broken promises?" Eliana felt her blood boiling, her arm itching to thrust the blade into his filthy skull. "Nocturnal doesn't care about you or the Key or _anything_ having to do with the Guild!" The Imperial knew that they were all lies. Everything that came out of his betraying mouth was a lie. And so she took a step forward, her eyes locking on him as he averted his gaze up to Karliah and Brynjolf, then looked back down.

Finally she satisfied her urge to speak, to make his blood run cold. "This isn't about Nocturnal, Mercer. This is personal." _Personal._ Shit, everything was personal these days.

"Revenge is it? Have you learned nothing from your time with us? When will you open your eyes and realize how little my actions differ from yours? Both of us lie, cheat and steal to further our own end." A chill shot down her spine at his words, and she took another step forward.

She felt nothing but hatred for this man. For what he did to Gallus, to Karliah. For what he did to her, all those times before. For what he did to _the Guild._ And so she spoke. One last time, before death and blood and honor spilled. "If anyone falls," Her words were hissing, poisonous. "It will be you."

She did not even hear those last words he said to her, only saw the laughter in his eyes and menace in his grin. He raced up the statue, speaking as he scurried along, his gleaming Dwarven blade drawn. "Karliah, I'll deal with you after I rid myself of your irksome companions. In the meantime, perhaps you and Brynjolf should get better acquainted." She heard Brynjolf's agitated words, the whip of blades slicing through the air, Karliah's violent tones as she cursed Mercer, then spoke to Brynjolf to calm him as he went rogue, his weapons whirling at his companion.

And she ran.

Eliana ran for him, sprinting up around the statue and after his quick form. Her blade was drawn, the faint light in the cavern glinting off of the Nightingale seal on the hilt. She was reeling in closer, closer to him, just a few strides away, but then he was gone. Vanished. She swore, slowing to a half as she glanced around. Then she heard it - his unmistakable bellowing laughter. He was standing near the Snow Elf's head once more, chuckling like a madman.

Her heart raced as she bolted up to the head, fighting the urge to simply throw her blade at his constantly moving figure. She regretted not bringing her bow along. She found catching him at this rate unlikely.

A smile came to her lips as she sheathed her sword, standing at the top of the statue while Mercer, having vanished once more, stood on the book. She had bought the spell from the Bosmer wizard in Riften after she had nearly been slaughtered by a pack of angry Death Hounds. She had never been much of a mage, the most she'd ever cast being a Lightning bolt spell that had burned her hand and left her wincing every ten seconds for the next five days. But she found a need for backup, just in case she lost her weapons to hungry vampires once again.

The blue glow trembled in her palm, but it was growing. She had spent hours that day trying to master it, nearly setting fire to the Cistern in the process. But she had actually become decent with it, and the only problem now was her trouble with aiming.

The deep, night-sky blue bow buzzed in her grip, humming as she knocked back an arrow. She pulled the humming blue string to her cheek and aimed for Mercer, who was sprinting up the statue. She released the arrow, and it flew towards him, sticking in his dark leather armor. He laughed and yanked it out, and it gradually faded as its enchantment died. She cursed herself for not aiming for a more tender part of the attire. Mercer was rushing towards her, and she was about to jerk her sword out of its sheath until she heard something - the rush of water, and the distinct sound of boots splashing. The Breton looked frightened as well.

Eliana took the chance. She pushed towards him, prepared to send her blade crunching through his rib cage, but then he vanished, and she was falling, the water soaking her to the bone. The stairs dug into her hip and back bruises as she fell, and she cried out. The water was ascending by the second. When she finally hit the bottom of the stairs she felt a wave of rage push through her, and she conjured the bow once more.

Mercer was standing at the top of the stairs, watching her and chuckling as she tried to rise to her feet, the swirling water only sucking her legs to the stone floor once more. She choked back a sob, knocking an arrow. She let it fly. It pierced Mercer in the side, and he yelped, touching the wound, gradually darkening with blood, and then looking back up at her. She let another one fly, dragging herself forward as it sliced through the air and toward his thigh. He cried and staggered backward, paling.

"You're not a threat, fool...merely an annoyance." And he lunged forward, blade set ready to strike. The Imperial gasped, trying to stand, but her boots struggled on the slick floor. The water was nearly to her back as she crawled toward the steps, her face damp and shining with water. She wiped her face, trying one last time and succeeding. Mercer was just feet from her, and she brandished her blade, lunging toward him. He was startled, swinging the blade late. Before it could even meet her armor she had hit him in the temple with the hilt of her sword. He howled, falling backward, clutching his head.

His eyes were dark as she stood above him. "Shadows take me..."

Eliana rose her blade high above his chest, both hands clutching the narrow hilt. "You got that right, you son of a bitch." With that she brought the point down on his chest, and a single strangled cry escaped his throat before his eyes drained of their life, now blank and subdued.

She staggered backward, laughing. Until she felt her boots fill with water, and she shrieked, racing back up the stairs. The final pipe burst, and the water began to rise even more rapidly.

"Dammit!" Karliah cried. "This place is coming down. Quick, get the Skeleton Key and the Eye and let's get out of here!"

Eliana grabbed Mercer's corpse by his dense leather armor, attempting to drag him up the stairs, but it was of no use. He was too heavy for her. She cried out as the water began to spill forward. She quickly rummaged through Mercer's pockets and pouches, even underneath the straps and his armor, in search of the two items. She could find neither. She felt her eyes flood with tears, and let out a strangled sob as she searched. "I can't!" she called.

But just as she was certain that all hope was lost, she found something. The sharp point of something pierced the leather on her gloves, and she gasped. She had found the key. But the Eye wasn't on him - it was so large, she would have found it by now. Had he dropped it?

She hurriedly rose and jogged up the stairs, careful to watch where she stepped. The water was spilling out of the burst pipes even faster, and she caught a glimpse of Karliah and Brynjolf swimming towards the statue. She felt dread swell inside of her. _Could she even swim?_ It had been years since she had last actually swam. _I'm not going to die here._

She caught a glimpse of something round and bright near the large book the statue held. She shouted to Karliah and pointed, but the Dunmer did not hear. She yelled once more, and this time it was Brynjolf who answered.

"Aye, lass, I'm on it!" He dove down and rushed to the golden book, limbs moving vigorously, then pushed his way back to the top, following the Dark Elf.

Karliah was the one who spoke next. "Eliana, we will be out of the cave, up there-" she pointed above the Falmer's head. "That's where you'll want to swim for! We'll see you there! I must speak with you then."

No one told either of them, Brynjolf or Karliah, that their beloved Nightingale couldn't swim.

* * *

Holy moly! I hope everyone enjoyed. I am aware that I tried to rush it near the end, but I was so excited to publish it! More chapters will be coming soon xoxo.


	2. Chapter 1

1- Silent Partner

Karliah's breath came out in misty white puffs of air as she exited the coffin, quickly pressing the small black button and dashing out of sight as it rolled closed, the sound of rock on rock. Her footsteps were silent, as if she was walking on a cloud itself. Years of thieving did that to you - gave you a simple automatic muscle memory that contained your footsteps, kept them from falling heavily or roughly on any type of terrain, be it the cold, damp streets of a large city, or the solid, moist soil of a graveyard.

The Dunmer sighed, repressing a shudder as she swiftly crept along the path, ducking out of sight when she spotted the dancing flame of a guard's torch. The Nord woman was humming softly, lazily trudging around, barely keeping an eye out. She was a short, stout thing, and her armor was rather disheveled, the midnight cloth crumpled and the chain mail obviously not oiled. She did not wear the thick, sturdy leather boots of the other guards, and instead her feet were hidden inside of a pair of soft, sheepskin slippers. Karliah smiled, forcing back a chuckle. Night duty must not be her strong suit.

She rose from a crouch and clung to the path once more, smiling and nodding to the guard as she passed. "Evening, madam." she said cheerfully, not expecting much of an answer. The Nord simply nodded, half-asleep. Just what she had anticipated.

She strolled along the path until she set foot on the dark wooden boards that made up most of the rugged city, full of lies and cheats and ruffians, just like it had always been. Everyone who knew Riften knew that the city did not deserve anything greater. It had no inner good, only rare truths, and was loved by only a few. It was not worthy of being tall and beautiful, having comely people or good deeds. But _she_ had liked it. She had loved the wooden planks, the whining roofs, the rickety shops and even the people. She had found beauty in the most unusual things, whether it was a board of wood or a sharp-tongued thief named after a gem. That was what the Guild had admired in the pretty redheaded Imperial, how she could find worth, _value_ in nearly anything. But that was not a desired trait for a thief - thieves found value in things that were actually _valuable._ They stole and they hoaxed and they loved every second of it. And yet, somehow, that girl with undesired traits and the innocent smile had become their Guildmaster - their leader.

Karliah blamed herself. Brynjolf blamed himself. Gods, even Delvin and Vex blamed themselves. There were people all over Skyrim, of all races and sexes and qualities, who thought her death was their own fault. And that was part of the reason, _the_ reason, that the Guild was no longer thriving as it once had. The reason that half the recruits had disappeared, the reason the Flagon smelled even worse than before and the reason that those chests that had once been bare as an infant were still practically empty. They were guilty, afraid to show their faces, afraid to tell.

Karliah sighed as she pushed open the door to the Bee and Barb, breathing in the forlorn scent of cheap mead and stale sweet rolls. She glanced around the small area, thankful that it was practically empty. Only one person sat at the bar, a half-empty bottle of Black-Briar mead in her hand: Sapphire.

Karliah sat down at the bar on the stool beside her, not even looking at the sour Nord. The brunette glanced at her once, nodding just the slightest, before taking a long drink of her mead. "Back from a job or what?" she asked, her tone hollow and monotone. Karliah did not get along with Sapphire - they never had. But it was not exactly unbelievable. Sapphire did not care. Not about you or Riften or anyone else. She cared about the Guild, and her job...

The Dunmer hesitated, then set her elbows on the bar and placed her chin in her palms, eyes fixed straight ahead. "No, not quite. I just left..."

"I visited Whiterun last Middas. I saw her grave." A hint of emotion had crept into her words, and she was peeling the soggy wrapper off of the glass bottle in her hand.

"Job?"

"No."

Karliah watched the Nord as she sat, still as a post, except for her lightly shaking hands that gripped the copper glass. She didn't know if the woman was simply drunk, and it was the effects of the mead, or she was truly unstable, agitated. "Whiterun is so beautiful." she said, and Sapphire nodded, sipping the amber-colored liquid.

"Yeah, it is." This was the most words that had been shared between the two young women in over a month, the last time being an argument over moon stone being shipped in from Summerset Isles. Karliah had been certain that from then on Sapphire had felt nothing but pure, genuine hatred for the Dunmer rogue. But if that was really the case, she wasn't showing it.

The cold Argonian bartender swept in behind the counter, her tail flicking at the tip. "I'll have some stew, if you have any." Karliah remarked, rubbing her eyes. The bartend sent a scowl her way before disappearing into the small kitchen, her scaled silver tail snapping even more vigorously. Sapphire smirked, finishing off her drink before setting it down rather roughly and averting her eyes to Karliah's. The elf noticed for the first time that Sapphire's large, attractive eyes were actually a deep, exotic dark blue. Like a sapphire.

The woman pushed a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear and her smirk stretched into a full grin. "Delvin and I were talking about something the other day. Apparently there's this new Breton family somewhere in Markarth. They're actually tryin' to run the Silver-Bloods out of business!" Karliah frowned, startled. She worried about, and anticipated, what the Nord woman said next. "Well, you know how big of a crush Delvin has on that old Silver-Blood man, so I have a plan. A good one, for that matter..."

Karliah took in a sharp breath.

"...Let's rob the Achille's of all they're worth."

Karliah nodded, not surprised when Sapphire said the exact thing she had presumed.

"It's an... idea, Sapphire, but we don't even have a plan. And the fact that you chose me is astonishing. Why not Vex, or Tonilia? I just don't know." But the idea excited her. Robberies were always a great adrenaline-rush, and with a partner it was twice the thrill. She so, so wanted to say yes. But she chose to play hard-to-get, like she had with Mercer many times before, whenever he'd suggested heists like this.

"We can figure it out," Sapphire exclaimed, clapping her hands together with a loud crack. "And no, I wasn't your biggest fan when I met you the first time. But I admire you, and how you're so strong, even when..." She paused, her eyes lingering for a moment, as if a cloud was passing right through them. "I just believe that we both need something...exhilarating in our lives. Don't you agree?"

Karliah hesitated, thanking the bar maid and taking one sip of her hot stew, her face twisting when the heat scalded her tongue. "I - I suppose it couldn't hurt. And, like you said, Delvin will be glad." She laughed nervously, pondering what her fellow thief friend had said about Delvin's "big crush".

Sapphire beamed, her eyes glistening. "Then it's a date."

* * *

Vex groaned, digging into her damp palms with her rugged, black, unkempt nails. It had been two hours, and there was still no sight of the newest recruit, a lithe, hushed Khajiit from Morrowind named Mayru. She had only met the woman once before, and what she saw did not seem promising. The Khajiit was young, probably no more than seventeen years, and although she did everything else absolutely flawlessly, she had trouble with locks. Even novice locks. With anyone, anyone at all, that was a deal-breaker for Vex. A thief needs to know how to _break._ Had Vex not known how to pick a lock when she came? No. Had Brynjolf? No. Had Karliah? Maybe. If this cat could both not pick a lock, and couldn't show up on time for an incredibly simple gathering that determined whether or not she joined, she _couldn't be a thief._

Vex sighed as she examined her hand, clamped around an amber-tinted half-full bottle of ale. She picked at the damp sticker that wrapped around the bottle, twisting the rusty fake silver ring twinkling on her right index finger. It was so simple, round and shiny, specked with the smallest dots of black dirt, giving it a very "rustic" look. It wasn't the sort of thing you expected an excellent thief to be wearing on her finger - you would imagine her with a moonstone band with a lusty emerald the size of her own head and the color of a Khajiit's eye. But, no. She had found the ring on one of Riften's infamous cold, damp wooden bridges, tucked between two boards and about ready to fall down to the thick lime green canal. The glaring silver caught her eye as she was padding along behind that place named after a ship. At first she had trotted by it, more important things on her mind. But, being the thief she was, she hurried back and slipped it out of the wooden grip and examined it, chuckling and slipping it on her finger.

And she still had it, for some reason.

Footsteps creaked behind her and she shifted in her seat, setting the bottle in the center of the table and folding her hands in front of her. She felt her heart begin to pound - the new recruit may be here. Everything she wanted to say cartwheeled through her brain, and she suddenly felt the urge to change out of her current clothes and into something more professional. It wasn't unusual for Vex to think that way - she wasn't as rugged and careless as she appeared - in fact, occasionally she listened to what her head told her...well, most of the time she did, actually.

Unfortunately, as she turned with a grim look pasted on her face, instead of the nimble tawny Khajiit, it was Karliah and Sapphire. The two were giggling hysterically, their eyes twinkling and their cheeks splashed with a faint pink blush. Karliah's long auburn hair was twisted into a sloppy braid down her back, and her armor was newly oiled. Sapphire, however, was rather disheveled, her hair frizzy and her face oily. She had not changed clothes in a while, coming from the pungent scent that hovered around her. Brynjolf always forgot to tell her to bathe, no matter how often Vex told him to. She would probably have to tell her now - and she dreaded it. The Imperial sighed, closing her eyes and giving herself (and the two others) a moment to discern the situation.

Sapphire collapsed into the oak chair across from Vex, the piece of furniture creaking under the sudden burden. Her short, kinky hair bounced with the motion, and she couldn't help but notice that some kind of liquid seemed to be rolling off of every strand. By the smell? Probably wine. A part of Vex didn't even want to ask, but another was chomping at the bit. It was not at all unusual for Sapphire to come back to the Flagon in this...condition, but Karliah? It was rare for the Dunmer to even drink with someone other than herself. The most Vex had seen Karliah come out of her shell was the day she laughed at one of Delvin's jokes. And nobody laughed at Delvin's jokes.

"I am under the effects of _alcohol._ _"_ Karliah said, sitting quietly and crossing her legs, folding her hands in her lap. Her lips were pursed and curved slightly upward in a hazy grin. Sapphire burst out laughing at this, throwing her head back and scrunching her nose from giggling so much. "Yes you are." Vex murmured, sipping her ale and taking a deep breath.

"When did you two get so close?" Vex purred, crossing her arms and sitting back, flicking a piece of lint off of her shoulder. Sapphire righted in her chair, her face suddenly solemn as she reeled out the story, most of it slurred so badly that Karliah had to translate it for her.

"You're kidding, right?" Vex snapped, leaning into Sapphire across the small circular table. The plan was insane - Brynjolf wouldn't even approve. "The only person Delvin trusted with that job was Eliana. _Not_ you, Sapphire. You've already botched _seven_ sweep jobs! Seven!"

Karliah slid her chair forward, making a horrible scratching noise as wood hit the choppy stone floor. "I am going with her. I won't let anything happen, Vex. It is out there, yes, but it could bring in more gold than the Guild's gotten in decades! Don't tell me you hate that idea." Vex took a moment to let it roll around in her head, her hazel eyes narrowed. She had always let the money manipulate her. She was greedy, just like Sapphire and Karliah were. Just like the entire Guild was. But that was what fueled this business - skill and value. Not friendship. This wasn't the Companions.

Sapphire was completely silent, her indigo eyes like steel as she held Vex's gaze. Karliah's face was pleading, her lips slightly parted, her violet eyes wide, her arched eyebrows raised.

Vex sat up, rubbing her eyes before bracing her hands on her knees. "Fine. But I'm coming with."

Sapphire's eyes softened, and Karliah smiled. Just then there was the sound of the ratway entrance to the Flagon creaking open, and silent footsteps padding forward. Vex turned, repressing a chuckle when she saw who had entered.

"Well, you found it, Mayru."

* * *

Sorry if this chapter sucked. I kinda rushed it. Don't worry, I am going somewhere with this.


End file.
